


this could be

by Liu



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: A Bit Of Homophobic Language, Dancing, First Kiss, Karaoke, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-11
Updated: 2015-08-11
Packaged: 2018-04-14 04:10:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4549899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liu/pseuds/Liu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Barry starts going to karaoke bars. It's pretty relaxing - until one day, Captain Cold shows up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	this could be

**Author's Note:**

> So this was supposed to be just a drabble... it kinda got away from me a bit. It's basically just fun, I needed to get the idea out of my head to make room for more serious fics.

Barry’s not quite sure how it happened. He’s never been too big on karaoke, so when Caitlin dragged him up on that stage and basically forced him to perform ‘Summer Nights’ with her, he didn’t expect to enjoy it quite as much as he did. Make no mistake, he was beet-red by the time they were done with the song, excitement mixing with quite a large dose of embarrassment. But when he climbed off that stage, he felt… lighter, in a way he did not understand until later.

 

Being the Flash isn’t always easy. Or more like, it’s _never_ really easy per se, but when it all works out, when he manages to save someone’s life or home or something important, the effort is absolutely worth it. However, there are days when he _doesn’t_ manage. There aren’t so many of them, but they always bulldoze Barry with guilt, and worry, and doubt.

 

The first time that happens, Barry can’t shake the feeling that him being turned into the Flash was some colossal cosmic mistake, like the universe could have picked anyone and by accident, the choice fell on Barry Allen. Everything he can do, he owes to this accident, this fateful error, and Barry feels absurd when bystanders cheer for the Flash as he pulls people out of yet another burning building. It feels a little bit like being in high school again, turning popular overnight because of some mistake and then waiting for the other shoe to drop, for people to realize it’s all been a misunderstanding and he’s actually far less cool than they thought.

 

He throws himself into forensics for a while there; Singh is finally happy (or at least less grumpy) about the time it takes for the lab results to arrive, but it doesn’t really satisfy that need in Barry’s chest to do something that’s just him, just pure Barry Allen without any Flash in it.

 

Then, a flyer for a new karaoke bar at the outskirts of the town drops out of Barry’s mailbox and he keeps staring at it blankly for a while before he remembers how it felt that time with Caitlin, being cheered on and applauded and smiled at because of something he had been good at before he became a speedster.

 

That first night is perfect. He only plans to do one song, see how it goes, but he ends up singing four and craving more. The tension in his chest, that silly feeling of Barry Allen’s inadequacy when compared to the Flash, eases up, and Barry can breathe freely again. He doesn’t forget the experience, though – and the next time his ribs begin to tighten around his lungs in that familiar way, he finds his way to the bar again.

 

………………….

 

Len’s not quite sure how it happened. He never wanted to see the inside of a karaoke bar in his life, but unfortunately, his best intentions often get thwarted solely because Lisa exists (within a hundred mile radius of him). And so, when she gets all pouty and huffy and snarls about how Lenny never has time for his baby sister anymore, Len finds himself marching towards the most remote karaoke place in Central City, hoping Lisa will get bored fast – or that he can get drunk faster.

 

She’s all dolled up, too, and Len wonders if she intends to get on that stage tonight. He hopes not: Lisa has many attractive qualities, but her singing voice will never be one of them, even if she refuses to acknowledge this fact. However, from what he’s heard about (and occasionally out the door of) karaoke bars, Lisa might actually be the shining star here. Some people have zero self-respect after a few drinks.  
  
Due to this line of thinking, Len is pleasantly surprised when they set foot in the bar and they’re greeted with a steady, boyish voice, one that is more than capable of carrying a tune. The guy’s singing some overplayed top-20 song with inane lyrics that always make Len snigger at the innuendos like a schoolboy, but the singer’s voice is nice enough and it has the crowd clapping along. As Lisa drags Len towards an empty table at the opposite side of the room, he finally gets a clear view of the stage.

 

The guy holding the microphone, hips swaying, eyes half-closed and lips curled into a excited grin, crooning about being glad that someone came, is no one else than the Scarlet Speedster himself.

 

Len mostly collapses into his chair instead of sitting in it. Lisa raises an eyebrow, then follows his line of sight and smirks.

 

“Like what you see, Lenny?”

 

“Not really,” he defends himself, but he knows that it’s gonna be impossible to explain to Lisa why he’s staring. For a brief moment, he considers telling Lisa the truth: he ends up discarding that thought as usual. It’s not that he particularly cares about his promise to the Flash about keeping his identity a secret – if it suited his purposes, he would spill in a second. But Lisa has never been too good at keeping her mouth shut long-term, and right now, it suits Len better that the Flash is slightly afraid of having his civilian identity used against him.

  
“Oh come on,” Lisa rolls her eyes. Her glitter-painted nails tap against the table, but it’s impossible to actually hear the clicking over the loud music. “He’s a little young, sure, but he’s totally your type, with those big doe eyes. Also,” she leans closer to Len with a cheeky grin, and he _knows_ what she’s going to say before she even says it:

  
“He’ll make you glad you came.”

 

Barry practically moans the same phrase across the room. Len inwardly groans and attempts to glare at Lisa. Not that it’s ever been very effective: she’ll shut up and listen, mostly, when they’re on a job, but when it comes to her obstinate meddling in his personal affairs, she’s impossible to stop, much like a charging rhino.

  
“You should go sing a duet with him,” Lisa continues.

  
“No.”

 

“Why not? I mean, if you’re not interested, I might give it a shot,” she gives the stage her most predatory look and Len knows he’s screwed. While it would be fun to see Barry squirm while having to sing with the Golden Glider, oblivious to his identity, the chances are that if Lisa gets too close to Barry, she might put two and two together. Scarlet isn’t always careful about changing his voice, especially when dealing with people he thinks he can’t meet out of his costume. Lisa’s always been good at observing people, and if she figures out who the Flash is, she might just use it to further her own agendas… Len jealously does not want Barry blackmailed by people _other_ than him.

 

“Fine. _One_ song, then you shut up about it,” he huffs at his sister and gets up, because the come-song has been on long enough that it just _has_ to be nearing its end.

 

Lisa has always been particular about her choices of music, and usually Len respects that, but he’s never done too well with being chased into a corner, much less by his own family, so he’s feeling particularly vengeful tonight. At the same time, making Barry Allen (and the Flash) uncomfortable has become somewhat of a personal mission, and so far, vague flirtations and meaningful looks have proven to be the best way to fluster the obviously super-straight Golden Boy of the Central City.

 

By the time the crowd starts clapping and Len’s looking right up at Barry’s slightly flushed face, he has just the perfect song in mind.

 

......................................

 

Barry’s grinning wide as he takes a bow and a round of applause nearly shakes the bar. He would never admit it to anyone but he loves these moments, when he’s alone in front of complete strangers, when he’s not the Flash or Barry Allen the forensic scientist or Barry Allen the Best Friend. He loves being all of those too, but sometimes, it’s just easier to breathe when he looks into the crowd and doesn’t know even a single face.

 

Except when he straightens his back after bowing to the crowd, there’s a very familiar face just a few steps from the stage: Barry’s heart speeds up to an outright flatline as he watches Captain Cold approach. For a split second, Barry considers just flashing out of there so the damage from their fight can be controlled – why is Snart attacking him in a bar, anyway?! Then Barry remembers just how much Cold enjoys dangling Barry’s secret over his head. Barry highly doubts Snart would give up an opportunity like that just to attack him in a public place, which begs the question… why is he here?

  
Snart stops by the DJ briefly, swapping a few words with the man, and then climbs on the stage. There’s no way out of there except around the man, and Barry allows himself this insane hope that Snart just came here to unwind as well, and he will let Barry go. But as he tries to slip around the man and off the stage, Snart’s hand curls around Barry’s forearm like a vice.

  
“Where do you think you’re going, Scarlet?” Snart leans closer, smirking. Barry’s heart is still hammering out a panicked rhythm, but he manages a scowl. He’s fast enough to get them both out of here if Snart tries anything, after all.

 

“What are you doing here?”

 

“It’s a karaoke bar, what do you think?”

 

Why does Cold have to be so… infuriating all the time?! Barry tries to yank himself free without drawing too much attention, but Snart doesn’t let go.

 

“My sister is sitting across the room,” Cold explains – or warns? And Barry is so, so screwed, because he’s still hoping the Golden Glider doesn’t know who he is. But if he starts an outright fight with Captain Cold, she’ll know, and then it won’t only be Cisco and Caitlin in danger of being kidnapped by the Rogues.

 

Shit. All Barry wanted was one night – one night a month when he doesn’t have to think about all the villains in Central City. But of course, with his luck, one of those very villains now wants to… what exactly?

 

The DJ waves at them impatiently.

  
“Get off the stage or start singing, boys,” he huffs, just as the crowd starts humming in displeasure. Barry makes an aborted attempt to get free again.

 

“Stage’s yours,” he says weakly; Snart smirks and reaches for one of the mics, handing it to Barry.

  
“Ours.”

 

He waves to the DJ before Barry can protest (and he wants to, holy shit, he wants to, being forced to sing with a drunk Caitlin was one thing, but being forced to do the same with Captain Cold really takes the cake).

 

The first tone of the song is vaguely familiar. Snart gets another microphone for himself and gives Barry that close-lidded hungry look that Barry never knows what to do with, and then he opens his mouth, and-

 

“Now I’ve…”

 

No. No no no. It’s not possible.  

 

“…had…”

 

There is no _way_ in _hell_ that Leonard Snart, Captain Cold, the thief and murderer and Rogue, has chosen-

 

“…the time of my life…”

 

Snart is slowly, slowly stalking close to Barry – it takes all of Barry’s willpower not to back away. And the worst part is, he doesn’t _look_ like Captain Cold; well, the smirk and the sly look, yeah, they’re there, but he’s not wearing a parka, just a simple white shirt and light blue jeans (Barry decides not to take the color scheme as a pun). The worst part, though, is that he can _sing_. Like, seriously, the last thing Barry would expect from someone who freezes people to death (or betrays them) without a second of consideration is a clear, smooth voice like that.

 

It might be just the shock, the absurdity of it all, but when Len’s through with Bill Medley’s part, Barry raises the microphone to his mouth without thinking about it too much.

 

And then, the beat starts, and Snart’s whole body starts _moving_ , and okay, _that_ must be the last thing Barry would ever expect from Captain Cold: that he can dance. Snart actually looks like he’s enjoying himself, even though he never stops looking straight at Barry for long, his eyes challenging and mocking and satisfied, heating up something in Barry, some sort of a reflexive response that makes him go along with all of it.

 

Their voices are a good match, which is another surprise: Barry gets this freaky vision of them settling all their fights through sing-offs and he finds himself grinning in the next moment, dancing around Snart because he refuses to just stand there and look like an idiot. Snart wanted this – so Barry’s going to play along. For now.

 

……………….

 

Len smirks when Barry decides to get with the program and starts moving for real: the kid’s got a great voice and he obviously knows how to use it, because he’s accommodating Len perfectly, not too loud and not too quiet.

 

As they get to the second half of the song, Len catches Barry’s hand on a whim, pulling him close. He half-expects the kid not to know the moves: the movie’s old, after all, and even though it’s still quite popular, Barry’s almost twenty years younger and Len’s not so sure what passes for ‘cool’ with kids these days. Barry’s eyes go wide and his heart hammers against Len’s chest so fast it feels like Barry’s phone is vibrating in his jacket’s breast pocket. In the next second, though, he falls into rhythm quite easily and Len can’t help but grin as they dance for a moment. He even spins Barry around on a whim, sending him to the other end of the stage, then crouches a little and wiggles an eyebrow: Barry gives him an offended look, obviously not happy about the suggestion of being lifted over Len’s head. This must be where the kid draws the line of imitating Dirty Dancing. Which is fine by Len, he was only teasing the kid anyway.

 

They gravitate closer during the last minute of the song, and when they sing the last notes together and the music stops, Len is a little breathless and more relaxed than he expected to be. He knows Lisa is somewhere in the corner, probably cheering loudly among the clapping crowd, but he can’t seem to tear his eyes away from Barry, who is looking back at him and-

 

“FAGS!” someone yells from the back. Len shoots a glare towards the crowd. He’s old enough not to care what people think, and old enough to know things have been getting better, slowly but steadily. Maybe it’s the song, reminding him of being fifteen and mortified at his hard-on for Patrick Swayze’s ass, but Len suddenly remembers all the rage of his teens and twenties, all the shame and fear and all the ‘in your face’ attitude that has stuck to him over the decades.

 

He looks back at Barry and his arm is curled around the kid’s waist the next second. For a split second, Len wonders why Barry doesn’t move away when he easily could, but that thought lasts exactly until their lips meet.

 

Len has not expected to do this. He wouldn’t, had it not been for that urge to spit the faces of those who would mind seeing two guys together; he certainly doesn’t expect it to be any good, kissing his nemesis who’s basically just a kid.

 

But Barry whimpers into his mouth, tilts his head and opens up – Len really, really didn’t intend to use tongue, but he can’t pass up an invitation like that. He buries his fingers in Barry’s hair and he’s aware of the wheezing sound of a mic dropped to the ground, but he couldn’t care less with his arms full of a sweet, sweet speedster.

 

“Guys, get a room, some people still wanna sing on that stage!” the DJ cuts in, but his voice is more amused than annoyed. “Though yours is gonna be a tough act to follow, let me tell ya!”

 

That effectively returns Len to the reality and he pulls away: judging by the deer-caught-in-headlights look on Barry’s face, the kid’s also snapped out of whatever trance he’s fallen into.

  
“Same time next week, Scarlet?” Len smirks and doesn’t wait for an answer: he really doubts Barry’s gonna show his face in this bar again.

 

But now, he’s got all sorts of new blackmail material ready for the Flash… and maybe a few new demands in mind, if the speedster ever gets desperate enough to ask Len for help again.

 

…………………….

 

Barry’s not quite sure how it happened. But next Wednesday, he’s shuffling his feet nervously against the pavement, debating whether or not he should push that door open. He’s not even sure what would be worse: seeing Cold there, or waiting for him like an idiot the whole evening.

 

Basically, it’s not even a debate on whether or not he should go in – every rational cell in his brain is screaming for him _not_ to. And yet, he’s standing right in front of the bar, no matter how loudly his inner voices are yelling that this is madness.

  
“Didn’t think you’d show.”

 

Barry whips around: Cold’s there, hands nonchalantly stuck in the pockets of his parka, though it _is_ quite chilly tonight, so Barry doesn’t even hold it against him. It just makes him feel a little naked, without his suit: he has this weird thought that Snart should get a proper supervillain spandex costume so that Barry wouldn’t need to be confused about whether this is an attack or Snart just needed a jacket to protect himself from the weather.

 

“Didn’t think you’d come either,” he shoots back. Snart quirks one eyebrow up for a second and smiles lopsidedly, glancing down briefly.

  
“What does that say about us, huh? That we’re both here anyway.”

 

“Yeah,” Barry mumbles – a sense of anticipation is tingling in his stomach, but he doesn’t know if he’s preparing for a fight or… something, _anything_ else.

 

Snart looks at him. Just looks – calculating something, most likely, thinking up a plan, but Barry has no idea what his endgame might be. Heck, he doesn’t even know his own endgame here: yeah, the kiss was good, unexpectedly so, but… can he really expect anything from a criminal? From someone like Snart, who kidnaps people and steals whatever he wants and has threatened Barry and his friends more than once?

 

“Look, I’m…” Barry starts, wanting to fill the silence, make Snart _stop_ looking at him like that because it’s making Barry feel on edge: but he’s got no words for this whirlpool of _everything_ in his head.

 

Snart smirks:

  
“Glad I came?”

 

Barry heaves a groan and runs a hand down his face: but for some reason, embarrassment is just a minor part of what he’s feeling. Mostly, it’s relief, even amusement.

  
“You’re never gonna let me live that down, huh?”

 

“No,” Cold agrees. “Especially this.”

 

His imitation of Barry’s dance move with his arm up and his hips thrusting forward is just plain ridiculous and Barry’s laughing in earnest; suddenly, Snart is all up in his space and his hand is a little bit cold against Barry’s cheek.

 

“I don’t feel like performing for an audience today. How about a burger?”

 

Okay, so it’s not the most romantic date invitation Barry’s ever heard of: but Barry’s spent most of his life picturing how perfect things would be with the perfect person, and so far it turns out there is no such thing as perfect.

 

When Barry nods, Snart’s fingers slip away from his face. Barry curls his hand into Len’s to offer up a bit of his warmth, and lets himself be dragged to wherever villains have their late-night snacks (and hopefully, make-out sessions).

 

Because for a feeling like Barry got back on that stage when Leonard Snart kissed him, it might be worth it to put up with a little imperfection.


End file.
